


Strawberry Shortcake

by Emotionalsorbet



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Allergies, Avengers - Freeform, Bucky goes grocery shopping, Bucky is back and better than ever, Domestic Avengers, Drabble, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, Overprotective Tony, Steve has allergies, Stony Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emotionalsorbet/pseuds/Emotionalsorbet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony fears that a pink haired girl in a bonnet could take down a super soldier...or something along those lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Shortcake

"You're just jealous," Bucky confirms, nodding his head as brings the brightly colored straw to his lips.

Steve smiles at him, leaning back against the bar to watch the crowd of people before him. _Sure_ , he agrees, because in a way--that is, in Bucky's mind--it's logical, and besides, it wasn't as if he himself had made the comment, as Tony had been the one calling him out for the drink of choice.

"A girl's drink," he retaliates, passing a hand over his mouth in what Steve assumes to be an attempt at being subtle. Bucky scowls, slightly, making a face at the comment.

"Five bucks says you've had at least ten in your experience here."

Tony shares a look with Steve, but Steve is raising his eyebrows, and the corner of his mouth is pinched to the faintest degree. He sips his own drink, trying desperately to conceal the terribly elegant pink stain rising to the base of his cheekbones. "What?"

Bucky seems to have lost all interest, trading in his attention on the matter for a brunette that's caught his eye; he's only half listening now. Although, and despite the behavior of the man to his right, Steve is anticipating a response. "Nothing," he looks away, but his attitude still suggests that he's expecting some sort of clarification.

" _Alright_. I've had a few."

Bucky snorts, "Damn right."

"I'll admit," Tony says, "they're not horrendous. Actually, the taste of them is delightful." And then, in returning Steve's amused gaze, "Don't give me that look, you know you've had your fair share."

Steve shakes his head, "Can't say that I have."

"You're joking, right? If I ask--"

"Nah. The loser's never tasted one. -- _Actually_ ," Bucky places down his glass, hopping off the stool he previously resided on, "that's a lie. He had one once and only once, but I don't think it really counts. Took a single sip of mine just to end up in the ER within the hour."

"You're kidding."

"I'm serious. The drive to the hospital was incredibly fun, if you couldn't imagine, especially with him clearing his throat monstrously the entire way. There were welts on his face and everything. Isn't that right, Steve?" He's facing the two of them, but is continuously checking back over his shoulder. "Ask him to tell you. Good story for a laugh--it's a killer at parties. Absolutely an amazing way for _Captain America_ to discover that he's got food allergies."

Tony laughs. Steve flushes, head tilted downward to attain a full view of the scotch and soda he's got clutched in his hands. When he glances back up, two pairs of eyes are fixed steadily on his reaction. "Alright, go on, then. I believe Tony has the idea down pat, but on the other hand, your girl over there seems to have conceived the thought of your not being interested." Bucky claps a hand on his shoulder out of gratitude prior to heading off, abandoning the two remaining individuals in a momentary silence. A three minute interval is granted to it, and a complete song passes before either one of them dares to say another word. Of course, Tony is the first to speak, resting his elbow on the counter as he does so.

"So--strawberries, huh?"

Steve shrugs, "Stupid, I know. Though, it's not like I had the luxury of choosing the sole fruit my body can't quite handle."

They're both focused on other things, watching with fascination as Bucky wiggles around the dance floor. He's worked his way to a blonde by the closing of the fourth song, chest pressed to her back and hands placed on her hips. Steve scoffs, nudging Tony to make sure he's witnessing the same spectacle. "Trust me, I'm seeing way more of the man than I bargained for." Tony scrunches his nose, shielding his eyes at the sight of Bucky and his newfound date going down on one another. "God, are all men from the forties like this? You're not going to head over and _join_ him by any chance, are you?"

 "Please," he says, "I'd rather take my chances with the Daiquiri."

-

If one things for certain, it's that Tony has never laid eyes on an epi-pen. Sure, he's heard of them: uses, looks--the whole enchilada, _really_. It's just that-- _well_ , he's new to the entire allergy concept.

Steve hasn't mentioned anything about owning one, but the possession is implied, isn't it? Tony watches him, eyes following his every action as he fixes his coffee. His vision's a little bleary, so the image is distorted to the faintest degree, though, and when he squints, it's fairly easy to make out the shape of the man's body. And it's certainly not all that complicated to pinpoint the questioning look he's being shot in response.

"Tony," Steve pulls a chair, "it's not that serious. I'm only in danger if I eat the food, not if I stare it down."

From the opposite end of the table, Clint raises an eyebrow, dropping his knife a little too loudly onto the wooden surface. Despite the sound, he picks up the jar of jelly in order to place it back on its original shelf, stepping away for a brief moment. When he comes back, the two present in the room have fallen silent; he takes a bite of his toast, watching them both curiously.

"Careful with that." Tony returns his stare, visually trailing the crumbs falling onto the kitchen tile. Clint's confused, because he's got a scott towel under the bread, and the cautious precaution has always been enough, so why introduce further neatness tactics into the morning routine now? No further words are said, so the prior comment is taken lightly, but the moment he's got the crust to his lips, "I'm serious, Barton. Grab a plate or something."

Clint swallows, reaching down to settle the makeshift placemat back on the table. "Alright, what gives?"

There's a sigh, and Tony's blinking up at him, chin hovering dangerously over the edge of the surface. He's slouching, so it isn't a far stretch when Steve places a hand on the center of his back. "Tony's being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous about what?"

"Nothing," comes the assurance, but a voice is rising over it, drowning out the statement with a minimum of nine words.

"This tower houses more than just you, you know."

Clint waits for further clarification, glancing over to Steve with hopes held high.

"It's not a big deal," he frowns, "I hadn't even planned on bringing it up, but I guess its out now." He tilts the cup, transferring his gaze between Clint and the beverage. "I have an allergy--a stupid one. Trivial-- _honest_."

"An allergy to what?"

"Strawberries."

Clint crosses his arms, leaning back against the countertop. "Does that even add up? Shouldn't the serum have, like, overridden any physical defect you had?"

"I assumed so. After all, that was the goal."

He hums, tossing around the idea in a thorough contemplation before verbalizing any thoughts on the matter. Tony seems focused, though he appears to be a bit hazy, centering in and out on the object that had so recently been the center of his attention. "How do you deal with it--wait. Let me start over. How exactly did you discover this? Like--what happens?"

" _Oof_ ," Tony huffs, suddenly brightening. "You'll wanna ask Bucky about that."

In the distance, the elevator dings. Steve closes his eyes, "Speak of the devil."

Bucky walks into the kitchen a moment later, keys jingling from their residence in his back pocket and arms decorated with several grocery bags. His footsteps are heavy, burdened greatly with the weight of the item he's carrying; a few envelopes are pressed between his lips, and once he's settled the other carry ons, the letters are relinquished, corners bent and drenched in saliva. He rummages through them, distributing them according to their addresses.

Clint cringes, pinching the opposite end of his mail and muttering some sort of gratification. His mind reels back to the previous conversation as he reads the senders information, suddenly presenting him with a valid reason to ignore the bill delivery. "Right," he settles the envelope beside a bag, "so, let's say I slip Mr. America over here a strawberry. What should I expect?"

"Nothing more than the usual effects. Its a regular allergy--hives, closing of the throat, swelling." Bucky shrugs, but he's he's struggling to open the wrapper of a granola bar like a toddler who's just learned how to maneuver their fingers. Eventually, he gets it open, "Why?"

"Curiousity," he explains. "How do you--um, deal with it?"

"Epi-pen. Steve's a super soldier, not a super human."

Tony sits up straight, "He does own one then."

"Oh, yeah. Never had to use it though." He rakes a bite before retrieving the item, only to toss it to Clint a second later. "Here. Have a blast."

-

Although Tony doesn't verbally mention the matter on any subsequent occasions, his gestures and actions are enough to provide for the idea of his thoughts still concentrating on the idea. It's the little things that demonstrate the care to the highest degree--he removed the specific type of jelly from the shopping list, and had even attempted to convince Thor of the strawberry shampoo's discontinued line. The actions were a bit overboard, but sweet.

For example, the two of them had attended a wedding earlier in the day (after many complaints from Tony--" _Why can't you just take Barnes as your date?"--"Because Bucky's already going and he's taking that girl he hasn't shut up about_."), and Tony couldn't quite seem to keep his eyes on anything other than the food on Steve's plate. Everything concerning the main course had appeared fine, but once the cake was cut, Tony resorted to smacking silverware from the man's hand.

"Don't eat that." He was pointing, and swiping the dish all at the same time, moving so that both slices had been far out of their reach. with a smile, "Strawberry filling."

Steve sighed, watching as every other couple chatted, or resumed their positions on the dance floor. In resolving the mood, he stood as well, holding out a hand. "If I can't eat--can we dance at least? Last I checked, no strawberries were doing the salsa."

"Well of course they aren't doing the salsa, that would be strange. And it would most certainly taste gross."


End file.
